


Love, It Is Everlasting

by Gariell



Category: Free!
Genre: Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Fulfilling Dreams, Future Fic, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Slowbuilt MakoHaru, blossoming love, fluffs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4477916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gariell/pseuds/Gariell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is full of wonders. It is an eternal fruit of life. It creeps in without warning. It beautifies everything it touches.</p><p>Nanase Haruka flew to Tokyo in order to pursue a career in professional swimming. He was also an artist, who worked part-time as a chef in a restaurant located at the heart of the city.</p><p>One winter night, a couple of days before Christmas, he met Tachibana Makoto, a literature-loving university student who dreamed to become a swim coach. He worked part-time as a new waiter at the same restaurant.</p><p>Never in his life had Haruka expected that he would fall in love, specifically one as deep as this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That One Winter Night

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> I am that pathetic writer who can't stop producing multi-chapters. I'm pleased to meet you, dear lovely readers, and I thank you for giving this fic a chance.
> 
> Although it may be late, English is not my native language, but I won't use that as an excuse to request a special tolerance. When I post a writing, I am aware that my work is open for public, and therefore I will try to keep up with the standards. I hope as I write, I learn. 
> 
> This fic is dedicated for MakoHaru and the wonders of its loveliness. This fic may contain lots of fluffs and slice of life, probably a little touch of angst, but it is simply a love story. That one with a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this fic.
> 
> Warm regards,  
> Gariell

With slightly shivering legs stepping over the cold street, Nanase Haruka strolled along the lively shopping district of Tokyo. In this icy season, when dusk gradually covered the entire city under a dark blanket, the district was dressed in colorful bright lights and glowing christmas trees. Every shop was cheerfully decorated, presenting various charms to attract customers, who never stopped roaming the city streets no matter what hour.

Haruka was never fond of the bustling and hectic atmosphere of a big city. He came from a rural seaside town of Iwatobi. He'd enjoyed the contentment and quietness of his hometown, the tranquil night and the lazy day. Haruka was born with natural love of water and incredible talents in swimming, art, and cooking. His parents concluded that his talents shouldn't be wasted and flew him to all the hassle he could only get from a city like Tokyo.

In all honesty, Haruka himself didn't regret his decision to come to Tokyo. It was a place where he could take a big step to pursue a career in professional swimming—a dream ignited by the fiery spirit he received from Rin, his childhood friend, who was now staying in Australia to pursue the same career. Still, even when he didn't regret his decision to be here, Haruka couldn't bring himself to wholly like the city. All the noises were a bit overwhelming for Haruka's taste.

He had just finished his swimming practice for the day and was making his way to a restaurant where he worked as a part-time chef. Haruka looked around, silently enjoying all the christmas decorations.

Haruka was aware that as the temperature plummeted, there were silent deaths and fragility of frozen nature beneath all the cheerful festive goodies and songs. For Haruka, winter was a season of contrast—the season of laughters and tears, celebrations and mournings, new romances and heartbreaks. It wasn't that he cared, but it gave him a tiny idea of spilling paint all over a blank canvas—of creating a boundary between the richness of colors and a vision in shades of gray—to produce a portrait of winter.

* * *

 

“Welcome!”

A warm, unfamiliar voice caressed his eardrums the moment Haruka entered the restaurant. A tall, lean brunet dressed in waiter uniform chimed his greeting with voice clear as bell. It looked like he was just serving a customer sitting at one of the many tables, carrying an empty tray and hastily making his way in front of Haruka.

“Please take any seat you like, sir.” The waiter beamed the brightest, most adorable smile Haruka had ever seen. His face was flushed, probably in exhaustion, but that little feature just made his smile radiated more like the sun. Haruka was charmed, although his expression didn't show any change of emotion. Yet, he couldn't help but admire the brunet's beautiful green eyes. They were like a pair of bright emeralds—or seemed to be in-between emeralds and peridots.

He'd never seen this guy before. “Are you still new to the job?”

“Eh?” The brunet's body went rigid, his smile going stiff. Haruka noticed that his question had made the guy worried over any flaw he might have shown that indicated amateurism.

“I've never seen you before.” Haruka helpfully stated. A small whiff of air escaped the waiter's mouth.

“That's right. I'm still new. Actually, this is my first day working here, but I hope my service will be satisfying to you, sir.” His smile stretched wider, and those green eyes glinted under the bright restaurant lights. As if he was just remembering what to do, he took a set of menu in a frantic gesture. “Would you like a seat near the window? There's a nice scenery outside.”

Haruka released a deep breath, walking past the new guy. He could feel the waiter loyally followed him to the back and toward a door exclusive for the staffs. Haruka stole a glance behind him, finding the brunet's smile had vanished.

The taller man tilted his head in genuine bewilderment. “Sir? I'm sorry, but that's the kitchen. Follow me. I will lead you to a vacant seat near the—“

“I'm the chef here.” Haruka released his backpack and pulled out a tall chef hat, a blue short scarf and a brown chef apron. “I just haven't got the chance to change.”

Deep blushes crept over the brunet's cheeks. He looked dumbfounded—his droopy green eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. “O-oh...” He blinked several times in his attempt to compose himself, “I'm sorry! This is embarrassing.” He slapped a hand over his flushed face, one arm still holding the menu pressed to his chest.

“It's okay.” Haruka released his winter coat and gloves. “Keep doing your work.”

“I... I will.” He inherently bowed in polite manner. Haruka immediately bowed back, returning the gesture of respect. The brunet smiled sheepishly at him. “If it's okay with you, may I know your name, sir?”

“Nanase Haruka.” The blue-eyed man answered, “How old are you?”

“I'm nineteen years old.” He seemed to have relaxed now.

“I'm nineteen, as well.” Haruka looked up at the taller man, his ocean blue eyes fixed on those pair of bright emerald irises. “So stop calling me 'sir'.”

“Oh, sorry! Okay. My name is Tachibana Makoto. Glad to make your acquaintance, Nanase-kun.” He presented his sunshine smile again. Haruka concluded that it was simply a habit of his, rather than a smile trained exclusively to please the customers. “You're amazing, Nanase-kun. You're still so young, but you have become a professional chef.”

“I'm working part-time.” Haruka explained, “I'm just a regular chef. You're also working part-time.” It wasn't a question. Haruka was that sure of his statement.

“I am.” Any trace of nervousness had gone from Makoto. This time, he curved up a different kind of smile—an amiable one, one that had a purpose to bring ease. Usually, Haruka didn't really enjoy a new company, but he found Makoto to be completely bearable, if not comforting. Despite this being their first meeting, Makoto gave him a presence of a good friend—that one friend to whom he could spill whatever mess his heart had without the fear of being rejected or judged.

 _“Tachibana!”_ The restaurant manager called out, _“Take care of the customers on table three!”_

Makoto's smile instantly drifted away as he turned hectic. “Coming!” He raised his voice, which left his vocal cords with higher pitch than necessary. His fingers fidgeted with a green tie around his neck, nervously adjusting its position. “N-Nanase-kun, I'll talk to you again. Enjoy your cooking!” He practically ran off toward a table at the corner.

* * *

 

Usually at dinner time, the restaurant was ridiculously crowded, and Haruka had gotten used to all the bustles going on in the kitchen. That particular night, however, unexpected waves of customers crashed through the restaurant. For a new waiter like Makoto, who was still on his first day—barely floating on the surface, they weren't waves.

They were tsunami, and the brunet was desperately sinking in the disaster.

Children wails, frustrated moms, messy tables (and floors and seats), grumpy customers, all chit-chats, laughters, cries and calls were nearly driving Makoto close to insanity. It was a night when Makoto believed that he wouldn't be able to ever feel calm again—shy presence and suspended thoughts sounded totally ridiculous. Calm was a word he would laugh at.

Makoto's smiles had turned stiff and forced, lips twitching in fatigue as he scurried around the restaurant. His breaths were rapid when he stopped beside the counter connected to the kitchen. “The john dory is overcooked.” He breathed, face flushed. If Haruka didn't know better, he would think Makoto was suffering from a high fever. “They request a new one.”

Without waiting for another chef to hand him the job, Haruka quickly nodded and slapped the fish roughly over his cutting board. One of the many challenges in the kitchen was to keep the food perfectly neat while racing against a very short time. Haruka thrust his kitchen knife through the fish body, deftly producing clean cuts.

“Nanase, work faster. We still have mountains of orders.” One of his seniors called, his arms flailed around the frying pan and the cutting board. The other chefs dashed around the kitchen, slamming the fridge and pushing the oven with their legs, with arm holding a bowl of dough and hand whipped a whisk over it. Haruka accelerated his pace, working on another orders while arranging the cooked fish as neatly as possible.

Makoto came to a halt near the counter, leaving another slips of orders. “The john dory?”

“Here.” Haruka placed the plate in front of Makoto. The brunet gave a very slight nod before taking it on his tray. He also took as many plates and glasses as he could on his tray. “Careful,” Haruka commented, “customers can be messy and the floor isn't always dry.”

“Thanks for the reminder—“ Makoto smiled tiredly before dashing to one particular table with a group of grumpy old men.

_Oh._

_Those_ old men. Haruka had known them as customers who were rarely satisfied with the foods, but kept coming here anyway. Probably just to piss the staffs off, he didn't know. That reason was stupid, but those old men did look stupid. Makoto should've left those specific customers to another waiter. He was still new, and Haruka worried if those men would upset his new friend.

Were they friends yet?

“Nanase! Get back to your work!” The head chef's furious voice boomed in the kitchen. Haruka almost jumped at the unexpected growl. He knew the head chef didn't expect a 'sorry', so he didn't bother to waste any more energy to utter the simple word and quickly made his way back to the boiling pot.

When Haruka put more plates of food on the counter for the waiters to take, his blue eyes caught a very confused and distressed Makoto who was still lingering near the table of his least-favorite customers ever.

“This is still overcooked!” One of the men protested. Makoto said something that failed to reach Haruka's ears. “You dare talk back to me?”

“No!” Haruka could finally hear Makoto's voice. He thought Makoto would turn frantic, probably crying, but it seemed like his distress had turned to silent anger. “This is the restaurant's standard for the dish. You can't request another change, sir.”

“Call the chef! I will tell him how to do it myself.”

Makoto stubbornly shook his head. “I can't do that!”

The man abruptly stood up from his seat. “You've got guts, kid.”

“Wait!” The restaurant manager sprinted toward them, “We're terribly sorry, sir. Please forgive him—this is his first day of the job—he's still new—please tell me your request, sir.” The manager blurted a series of sentences without a pause.

Makoto was too tired to listen to any more of their argument. He stood still behind the manager, until he turned to him and commanded with irrefragable tone, “Ask the chef to make another one.”

Heaving a sigh, Makoto made his way back to the counter. “Nanase-kun,” he breathed in fatigue, “another one, please. Still overcooked.”

After receiving a nod from Haruka, Makoto continued to serve the other customers. Invisible dark clouds floated over his head like a halo, producing cold rain to shower onto and lightning to strike his head. Gloom clouded his face, and his smile was no longer radiating its usual charm, not even to the customers.

He was sure he would lose his job immediately after this day was over. It was only his first day, and Makoto failed it.

* * *

 

The clock struck nine. Although the tsunami was over, the aftermath lingered. Makoto's body was aching all over. He was a swimmer, but one night as a waiter had unpredictably drown him in fatigue. As he had expected, the restaurant manager asked him to talk in private.

He would lose his job today. He knew it.

“Don't get discouraged.” The restaurant manager heaved, “Those grumpy old men are regular customers. They are always complaining, but they keep coming back here. Every staffs, including the chefs, have known how ridiculous they can be. You must be a bit shocked.”

Makoto was indeed shocked. He thought the manager would yell at him. He had even imagined a picture of himself being kicked out of the restaurant.

“I have seen your performance today, Tachibana. You really are a hard worker. I have only one complaint. Do not, _ever,_ offend our customers, no matter how annoying they are. Replacing a couple of dishes won't be as damaging as losing regular customers. Is that understood?”

The brunet quickly nodded. Invisible ray of sunshine had replaced the dark clouds, kissing Makoto with its happy light.

“You're still really young. Usually, youngsters have their way to be emotional, but I've seen how sweet-natured you are, and that is good for our customers. So keep up the good work and improve the pace of your service. Most importantly, keep that smile. Have you met Nanase Haruka? He's a part-time chef, and he's the same age as you. I think you two can be good friends.”

“Oh, I have.” Makoto answered, “And I hope so.” He didn't know if he was blushing by the thought of the gorgeous guy with dark blue hair he'd just met today, as his face was already flushing all over with fatigue, but he was sure of one thing.

His heartbeats were strangely capricious, just after the manager uttered the name 'Nanase'.

* * *

 

Without waiting for Makoto to come out of the manager's room, Haruka made his way home. Although he couldn't judge the situation himself, he strongly doubted the manager would let someone like Makoto go. His smile and demeanors were perfect for the job. Haruka had never seen a smile as charming as his, and he believed the others were also aware of that special smile.

The night winter breeze sent shivers through his body. Haruka tightened his thick blue scarf around his neck. A strong aroma of freshly baked cookies stopped him on his track. Haruka bent his body to take a closer look at a display behind the opaque glass window of a bakery, which was clouded by his own visible puff of breath.

The aroma was pleasing. Haruka wondered if he could make the same thing for himself. He'd grown a special love for mackerel, but the unbearable cold sometimes brought him an appetite for various kinds of warm foods.

“I really want that one.” A group of kids were chattering beside Haruka, huddling in front of the glass like little chicks. Unlike in Iwatobi, the streets of Tokyo were still crowded even at this hour. Haruka could see their parents standing near, engaged in conversations. The kids enthusiastically pointed at different kinds of sweet goodies.

Haruka silently entered the shop and purchased two gift boxes of christmas cookies, and one regular box of cookies for himself. When he made it outside, the kids were still lingering in front of the shop. “Here.” Haruka said with flat tone, approaching them and handing a gift box of cookies to one of the kids. “Share with your friends.”

The kids exchanged confused glances, but wide smiles promptly followed after. “Thank you, Onii-san!” They chanted. The kids vigorously scampered back to their parents, showing them the box of cookies. One of the moms approached Haruka and delivered a sweet thank you.

“It's still early, but Merry Christmas, young man.”

A polite smile formed on Haruka's lips. “Merry Christmas, ma'am.”

That cold night, Haruka settled his body under a _kotatsu,_ watching the remaining beautiful gift box of christmas cookies on the table. The box was red, nicely tied with a knot of green silk bow. The green was so similar to Makoto's eyes. Brighter than emeralds, darker than peridots.

He wondered if the sweet green-eyed guy also liked sweet foods. 


	2. Stars, Silver and Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> Your lovely gestures of leaving comments, kudos, bookmarking and putting to subscriptions are very appreciated. As a thank you, I've brewed another cup of story for you to enjoy. I will be pleased if you're willing to share your thought about the taste, whether it's sweet, bitter, tasteless, or whatever it is. 
> 
> Didn't I mention in one paragraph of the previous chapter about 'ray of sunshine kissing Makoto with its happy light'? The first three words were a title of fluffy treat brewed by [DatHeetJoella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DatHeetJoella/pseuds/DatHeetJoella). If you haven't already, go and take a sip of her story. You will enjoy the fluffiness, just like I did.
> 
> Warm regards,  
> Gariell

6.25 A.M., December 23rd.

The moment his damp bright emerald eyes set their gaze on his phone calendar, a huge yawn escaped through Makoto's lips. His finger swept over his teary green orbs. No, he didn't cry. He was just really sleepy. He didn't know how many times he'd yawned, and this morning, the cold was unbearable. He was never a morning person. Then again, how could he leave his bed with all the stinging cold lingering in the air, ready to stab his body like ice peaks the moment he was no longer protected by his warm, thick, fluffy blanket?

Makoto sneezed loudly and pulled his blanket to wrap around his curled body, trying to gain comfort by being a big bundle. He had a class at university today, but he didn't feel well. His throat was scratchy, and his head stung with dizziness. His hand slowly crept over his neck, feeling its steady pulse and unhealthy kind of burning heat. His face flushed hot, yet his body couldn't stop shivering even under the warmest blanket his mother had managed to bring for him last Christmas.

Did he fall ill so quickly and easily? By being a distressed waiter who drowned in a tsunami of customers last night? Makoto never realized he was that weak.

That probably wasn't the case. Makoto had been pushing himself, breaking over his limit almost every day. His apartment was a cheap one, but it was so far away from both his university and his new workplace. He lived in an old apartment standing at the corner, far from the heart of Tokyo.

Previously, he worked part-time as a barista at a coffee shop near his apartment. By near, it still meant two kilometers away, and that meant an extra four kilometers to walk back and forth between his workplace and his apartment. He had to wake up very early and often came home late, resulting in lack of sleep due to intense study and working on assignments he was required to finish. He decided to quit his job, but economy didn't go that well for Makoto. He had to at least help his parents to support his own living expenses.

That was why he felt like heaven just opened up a way for him the moment he saw a job advertisement in a restaurant located at the heart of the city. Makoto passed that street almost every day after he was done attending classes. He would save up a lot of time and still earn his money, and he was very pleased when he got accepted to work there.

And, bless him, he met a new friend who was at the same age as him. A gorgeous guy with the most beautiful blue eyes Makoto had ever seen. It was so blue—the bluest of blue—like the sunlit ocean. Makoto thought Haruka was beautiful. Wait, he meant his eyes, not him as a person!

Right?

Makoto mentally slapped himself. His mind had wandered a little bit too far.

He decided that it would be better if he skipped class today. It was an extra class before Christmas holiday, so he wouldn't miss too much materials. If he felt better by afternoon, he would still go to work.

A cheerful ringtone blared from his phone as it buzzed, snapping Makoto's sleepy eyes to open. The brunet lazily rubbed his messy olive-brown hair before taking his phone and looking at the screen. It was Makoto's home phone number. He quickly pushed the answer button and pressed the receiver to his ear. “...'lo...?” His dry, scratchy throat failed to utter a full word.

 _“Onii-chan!”_ The voice belonged to Ran, his beloved little sister. A smile immediately formed up on Makoto's lips. He could hear a flow of classical music dancing in the background at the other line.

“R-Ran...” said Makoto in his effort to keep his voice normal. He failed. His voice came out horrible, if not terrifying.

 _“Onii-chan, your voice sounds so weird. Are you sick?”_ asked Ran, her voice worried.

“Just a little cold.” Makoto answered, trying to assure his sister. “I'm fine. Don't mind my horrible voice. Onii-chan just got up from bed.”

 _“You're always bad at getting up early. It's already 6.30!”_ Ran protested, whining.

“It's still 6.30!” Makoto whined back, playing along. Oh goodness, his whiny sick voice was so ugly.

 _“Your voice is so funny, Onii-chan!”_ Ran laughed. Makoto's smile broke to a grin. It wasn't so bad after all. He loved hearing his siblings happy. _“Drink much water. Don't push yourself too hard. I bet you'll get super smart once you graduate, even without torturing yourself. Ren misses you a lot. He sometimes cries!”_

“Tell him,” Makoto amusedly smiled once he heard his little brother's name being mentioned, “'you're a boy, Ren. You have to be tough'.” Ren was Ran's twin brother, yet they seemed to have opposite personalities. Ran was more mature in comparison to her crybaby twin.

 _“Oh, I have. I always tell him not to cry. But he can't just get over it that you really left to Tokyo.”_ The music behind Ran's voice intensified. Makoto's ears caught up the tunes. He knew this classical piece. _“By the way, Onii-chan, me and Ren are practicing to waltz for Christmas! Just like Mom and Dad sometimes do. I think waltzing with the love of your life is soo romantic.”_

“I think so too. What's that song playing?” Makoto already knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

_“It's... um... you're the one who introduced this song to me! Don't tell me you forget, Onii-chan. I can't really remember the title, but it's composed by... um... Cha... Chai...”_

“Tchaikovsky.” Makoto helpfully continued, _“The Nutcracker Suite. Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy_ just started.”

 _“I knew it! You're just testing me!”_ Ran uttered her protest. _“Oh, but you know, this part is my favorite. I feel like an actual fairy when I dance along with it.”_

Makoto laughed, but his messed up throat released a croak instead. He cleared his throat. “You already are a sugar plum fairy.” And he was serious. Ran was his little sugar fairy princess. That was how much Makoto had spoiled—and loved—his sister. Ran almost squealed in delight as a response for Makoto's sweet statement.

The brunet did know quite a lot of classical music pieces, due to his hobby of reading classical literatures. When he read, he liked to set up a good music piece for his reading materials, to help building up a comfortable reading atmosphere. He did the same when he was reading with his siblings. Ran loved _The Nutcracker_ story, and Makoto really didn't have any other choice but to set up Tchaikovsky's _The Nutcracker_ to fill in the room in order to spice up their reading.

“Ne, _Onii-chan.”_ Ran's voice was glazed with honey—an irresistible, manipulative voice she sometimes used to beg for something. Makoto had mastered that kind of voice, and now Ran was following his way. _“Will you be home for Christmas?”_

A smile adorning Makoto's lips turned to a sad one.

* * *

 

Haruka snorted as he listened to an old song being played as a background music in the restaurant. The lyrics were in English, but despite his weakness in the foreign language, he still could understand their meanings, more or less. The song title was _'I'll Be Home For Christmas'._ The singer was promising that he would be home for Christmas, asking whoever at his home to have snow, mistletoe, and presents by the tree.

Oh, it wasn't that Haruka hated that song. He felt frustrated sometimes, because the happy gesture of coming to a warm home couldn't be done for people like him. His parents were barely home, even on holidays. They barely talked to each other. They were always busy, and Haruka couldn't remember when was the last time he sat together with his parents at dinner table, enjoying each other's presence even if no word could be spoken at the moment.

He was sure that if he did come back home to Iwatobi, he would encounter a cold, empty, undecorated house, with a lonely spirit drifting in the air, helplessly wandering for a company. Haruka would be the company of that lonely spirit, letting it possess him and curse him with pathetic loneliness.

It was simply a lie if Haruka said he didn't give a fig about his lack of 'home'. In fact, he gave an entire fig tree. He wanted to have a real _home—_ not a house—with someone to welcome him with a warm smile after a hard day of competitive swimming. He wanted a home where chants of _'okaeri!'_ teased his eardrums the moment he stepped inside his dream house, and he could utter a _'tadaima'._

And Makoto was there in his longing fantasy, in front of his—their?—house, saying _'okaeri'_ with a lovely smile and a tilt of head.

Wait. Why did he imagine Makoto there? Was it because he had the warmest, brightest, loveliest smile Haruka had ever seen?

That must be it.

Now that he was thinking about Makoto, he wondered where the brunet was. At this hour, shouldn't Makoto be here already? Or had he gone home for Christmas, taking holidays to spend with his own family? Haruka dared to bet that whoever raised Makoto, they were wonderful parents. How could they not, when their son was so sweet-natured? Just a night of meeting and watching Makoto serving the customers, he could almost safely weave that conclusion.

Haruka's eyes bored blankly at the glittered silver and gold stars in his hands. Today, the entire staffs, including part-timers, were required to come early to help decorate the restaurant. The owner wasn't satisfied by the current decoration, after he'd seen all the colorful glows, glitters, and charms the other shops and restaurants had.

“Make this restaurant as attractive as possible,” the manager had said, bringing boxes of christmas decorations. “Everything should be done before dinner time.”

Now they were almost finished with the decoration. The restaurant was more lively and cheery now, with colorful ornaments hanging on the ceiling, long green bushes adorned with christmas balls and stars along the walls, mistletoes at the doors, a large glittering christmas tree, and different kinds of decorations for each table. The lights added the final golden vista all over the place.

“I wonder where Tachibana is.” A waitress said, hanging an extra silver angel at one of the christmas tree's branches. She looked up at the clock. It was almost dinner time, and customers had started to roam the restaurant. “It's his second day and he's late. Our manager won't like it—“

“I'm sorry I'm late!” Makoto's hoarse voice rang through their ears. Haruka's face felt a little warm. Must be the blast of the heater near him. Ignoring the urge to look at Makoto's adorable face, Haruka forced his mind to concentrate on the decoration. Now he was staring at a romantic couple of turtledoves ornament, unconsciously glaring at them, as if they were to blame for whatever funny feeling fluttering in his stomach, up to his chest.

“Good evening, Nanase-kun.”

When his skin sensed a familiar, new presence approaching him, Haruka finally looked up. His blue eyes were instantly drawn to Makoto's green irises like a magnet. Yet it didn't take long for them to notice how red Makoto's face was. That was such a cute sight—that flushed face of Makoto—but it also suggested that something was wrong.

After a slow blink, Haruka turned to face his new colleague. “...You okay?” asked Haruka, feeling a strong surge of concern over Makoto.

“Oh, I'm fine! You mean my voice?” Makoto chuckled, “It's horrible today. I have sore throat, but that's no problem.”

Haruka didn't mean his voice, which indeed had turned really low and hoarse compared to his high-pitched, clear as bell chime yesterday. He meant the blushes on Makoto's face and the rapid breathing of his, also his slightly unfocused eyes. He looked exhausted, but perhaps it was just because of a constant running to this place. Nothing more than that.

“Nanase, let's be ready.” One of the chefs nudged his elbow, rushing toward the kitchen.

Makoto gave him an encouraging smile—a wide one—until his eyes were closed. “Good luck to you, Nanase-kun.”

“You too.” Haruka replied in hesitation. He walked past Makoto, feeling a whiff of his hot breath near Haruka's neck.

_Oh. This isn't good._

Haruka stopped on his track. “Tachibana,” he composed an intimidating glare at Makoto, “you're feverish.”

“I was running all the way from the station.” Makoto stated an obvious reason, almost indisputable. “Thank you for your concern, Nanase-kun.” A gentle smile adorned his pale and dry lips. “I have to serve the customers. They can be grumpy. Talk to you later!” Makoto turned away, hastily taking a set of menu before greeting a family of customers.

Still, Haruka couldn't wash away this concern constricting his chest. He was worried.

* * *

 

Haruka carefully placed strawberries over a whipped cream on his white christmas sponge cake. He deftly cut them to neat slices, placing each slice on different plate. The customers were as crowded today, and the chefs received more dessert requests. He'd observed Makoto in-between his busy cooking and baking time.

Like what he'd feared, Makoto moved slower than yesterday. He looked so exhausted.

Yesterday, Haruka confirmed that it was mere fatigue, but today he was sure that Makoto was indeed suffering a high fever. It was painfully obvious when Makoto stopped by the counter to take some plates. His eyes were unfocused, and even more so when he paused for a while to press his palm onto the wall, seemingly to support his body. Haruka was alarmed when Makoto almost dropped his tray—full of plates and glasses—when his body swayed to the front, almost collapsing.

For the other staffs or the customers, Makoto would look like he stumbled over his clumsiness, but Haruka knew that it was simply because Makoto was about to faint. Haruka brought a plate of roasted chicken when Makoto lingered at the counter. After leaving another slip of order, the brunet smiled weakly at him, taking the plate from Haruka's hand. Their fingers touched under the plate, and a spark of heat rushed through Haruka's fingers.

“Tachibana.” Haruka finally said, “Stop working. You're sick. I'll call the manager so he will let you go home.”

“I'm fine, Nanase-kun.” Makoto quickly said. When he was ready to leave, Haruka surprised his own self by holding on Makoto's white sleeve, preventing him to go away.

“You'll stumble again. Worse, if you faint, you will waste away the foods I've made.” Haruka practically snapped at him. Really, the food was the least of his concern, actually, but Haruka couldn't help but say it at the moment. Makoto needed to be informed that his sickness would cause troubles for others, because Haruka doubted Makoto would care if it was only about his own health.

It seemed like Haruka's words finally left an impact. Makoto blinked at him, as if forcing his eyes to focus on Haruka's. “Uh... you're probably right.”

 _Good boy._ “Drop your tray on the counter. I'll call the manager.”

* * *

 

Haruka, being only a part-timer and a junior chef, got special permission to escort Makoto home. After thanking and saying good bye to the manager and receiving 'get well soon's from most of the staffs, Makoto walked slowly out of the restaurant, followed by Haruka. A taxi was ready in front of them. The owner was kind enough to provide a taxi for his sick staff.

The night winter breeze was freezing, and Makoto couldn't stop shivering, even when covered by his thick green winter coat. His face and neck were glowing with rosy color. Haruka couldn't count how many times Makoto had sneezed and coughed. He helped to open up the taxi door for him. After Makoto entered, Haruka followed behind, settling himself on his seat before closing the door.

Makoto weakly informed his address to the driver. Haruka didn't recognize the address as a place he knew. He'd memorized a lot of streets and places at the heart of Tokyo, but it seemed like Makoto's area of living was one of the few he couldn't remember.

It was a long drive. Haruka frowned at the distance. Why would Makoto work at a place so far away from his place of living? He couldn't ask the brunet at the moment, as he had fallen asleep since who knows when. Haruka's eyes shifted toward Makoto, watching his colleague sleeping so peacefully, like a baby. His body was still shivering. Haruka would like to release his own coat for an extra covering for Makoto, but then he himself would easily freeze. The heater blasting in the taxi didn't do a good job.

When the taxi slowed down in front of an old apartment, Haruka shook Makoto's body gently. “Tachibana, Tachibana.” He called with soft voice. It didn't take long for Makoto's thick eyelashes to flutter, opening the vivid green orbs under them.

“Uh... Haru...?” He said softly, barely conscious.

_Haru?_

Who told Makoto his nickname? Nobody in Tokyo called him 'Haru'. Rin and Sousuke were the only ones calling him 'Haru', while Nagisa would call him 'Haru-chan', but he never told anyone his nickname since his arrival in this big city.

Ignoring his own bewilderment, Haruka continued to speak softly, as if Makoto would jump in fright if he raised his voice. “We've arrived. Is this your place?”

Makoto rubbed his eyes, looking out the window. “It is. I'm sorry, Nanase-kun. I fell asleep.”

“It's okay.”

His green eyes were now more focused, softening when they met with Haruka's blue ones. Makoto's lips cracked to a gentle smile. “Thank you, Nanase-kun.”

* * *

 

Stars, silver and gold.

Those were the only words popped up in his mind when Haruka made his way inside Makoto's apartment room. After Makoto turned on the light, Haruka was welcomed with a sight of glittering and glimmering stars hanging on the ceiling and pretty much anywhere. His room was heavily decorated with stars and few other christmas ornaments. Colors—mostly silver, gold, orange, and green—clashed between one another. There was a little christmas tree gleaming with silver and gold stars—and colorful christmas lights—just as tall as Haruka's knee, standing beside a wooden bookshelf.

Makoto didn't do the best job of decorating for Christmas. The decorations were beautiful, but messy at the same time. The stars were thrown pretty much everywhere with the other decorations, harmony be damned.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” uttered Makoto, gesturing Haruka to sit by the _kotatsu_ , “my room doesn't have the best decoration.”

 _Yeah, it's horrible._ Haruka was smart enough to suppress the words to stay in his thought and not to roll off his tongue.

“I personally like the stars, as I love to see the sky.” Makoto explained, rolling his futon on the floor. Although he was still sick, he looked better after sleeping in the taxi.

“I see,” replied Haruka with a nod. He spotted a telescope on the study desk. Did Makoto like to stargaze?

“Is it okay for me to lie down?” Makoto's soft-spoken nature had taken over.

“Of course. What else should you do?”

“Preparing you tea?” Makoto suggested, lying on his thin futon with his winter coat on.

 _Stupid._ Again, Haruka didn't say it out loud. He checked the small bathroom. There was no hot water available. “May I use the kitchen?”

“Please do...” Makoto's voice was hoarse and sleepy, “I'm sorry you have to serve yourself.”

Haruka ignored the apology and prepared a kettle to boil some water. Until the water was warm enough, Haruka separated some of it from the kettle and to a small basin he'd found in the bathroom. He put the kettle back on the stove, letting the remaining water heated until it boiled.

He came back toward Makoto, carrying a basin of warm water and a soft rag. While standing on his knees, Haruka rinsed the cloth in the warm water, squeezed, and folded it, carefully placing it on Makoto's burning forehead.

“Nanase-kun, you don't have to...”

“Tachibana, your apartment is too far away from your workplace.” Haruka changed the topic. “Why do you work there?”

“I passed that street almost every day... from university.” Makoto replied with a soft, drowsy voice. Creases formed between Haruka's brows. Makoto's university was ridiculously far away.

“If your university is so far away, why do you live here, then?”

“Cheap.” One word that explained everything. Haruka let out a sigh. “Yet,” Makoto suddenly continued, “after I met you yesterday, an idea came to my mind.” A shy smile adorned his lips.

“What?”

“Where do you live, Nanase-kun?”

Oh, he knew it. If Makoto was considering to move to the same apartment as his, he was unfortunate. As far as he knew, all the rooms were occupied. Last year, Haruka was quite lucky himself. When a college student had graduated and left Tokyo, Haruka miraculously managed to snatch the vacant room away. His apartment was nice, standing beautifully at the heart of Tokyo. The place was strategic. It was near some of the best universities and the shopping district, not to mention lots of places where college students usually worked part-time.

But of course, the rent wasn't cheap. Despite him being a small town boy, Haruka's busy parents were wealthy with the fruits of their hard work—the fruits of Haruka's neglected state. Haruka sighed, then he told Makoto, matter-of-factly, how expensive and full his apartment was.

“That's why,” Makoto's blush deepened a little, “if it's okay with you, Nanase-kun, may I be your roommate? So we can get cheaper price to stay there.”

_Roommate._

He hadn't thought about that. Makoto as his roommate? Usually, Haruka would sulk if he was required to live with a new roommate. He didn't like unfamiliar company. He enjoyed being alone, immersing in his exclusive privacy.

Yet, when he imagined about Makoto being his roommate... his heart did a leap.

His heart leapt so high and far that Haruka had to make sure that his heart would do a safe and smooth landing. Or else, it would crash.

It was such a weird feeling, but he thought having Makoto as his roommate wasn't so bad.

In fact, not bad at all, even if he had to sacrifice his room to be dressed in glittering stars, silver and gold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References:
> 
>  _Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy_ : a part of the classical piece _The Nutcracker Suite_ composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.  
>  _I'll Be Home for Christmas_ : a Christmas song recorded by Bing Crosby, originally written to honor soldiers overseas who have longed to be home for Christmas time.
> 
>  _Okaeri_ means 'welcome home'.  
>  _Tadaima_ means 'I'm home'.  
>  _Kotatsu_ is a table frame covered with futon or thick blanket, in which a table top sits. A heat source is usually under the table. 
> 
> Source from Wikipedia.


	3. Eve of Christmas, Gift of Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> I really appreciate your comment, kudos, bookmark and subscriptions. Thank you for leaving them on this story.  
> Love happens in many ways, sometimes unpredictably. Of course, as Haruka and Makoto were two strangers, none of them predicted love to come. Yet, don't you think they should've expected the most powerful emotion in human life--which is love--to invade their hearts someday, the moment they look at each other?  
> Because one couldn't deny a spark of attraction he had with the other. In this chapter, one recognized the spark he felt.
> 
> I hope you will enjoy another cup of this story.
> 
> Warm regards,  
> Gariell

Haruka was brewing some tea when he heard Makoto sneezed again behind him. He exhaled a deep sigh, placing two ceramic tea cups on the kitchen counter and poured the steaming hot liquid in the cups. Haruka was about to tear open a pack of sugar, but hesitated. “Tachibana,” he called out, receiving a weak 'what' as a reply, “do you want yours sweet?”

“Excuse me?” Makoto was lying comfortably on his futon, a thick blanket draped over his body. Haruka had helped him to remove his coat and change his waiter uniform to a comfortable set of pajamas. His sleepy eyes were threatened to droop down at any time. “What sweet...?”

“Your tea. I'm making us tea.”

“What? Nanase-kun, you don't need to do that—“

“Just answer the question.” Haruka said, paying a glance at the brunet.

“Oh, okay then. Yes, please. I like sweet.” Makoto's flushed face smiled gently at Haruka. “Thank you, Nanase-kun.”

“Uh... yeah.” Haruka replied softly. His heart was beating louder behind his chest. Why did he feel so nervous, yet comfortable at the same time? It was weird. He frowned, staring blankly at the pack of sugar in his hand.

Did Makoto just mention that he liked sweet?

A fluttering warmth were dancing in his belly as he tore open the small pack of sugar and poured some of the content to one particular cup with green color. Haruka had taken two cups of different colors—one blue and one green—out for a simple reason: so it would be easy for them to recognize who had which. Haruka took a small spoon and used it to stir the sugar in Makoto's tea. When he was finished, he carried the cups toward Makoto.

Makoto slowly sat up, removing the warm compress on his forehead. He still looked dizzy. When Haruka handed him the green cup, his fingers were still lightly attached to the cup, making sure Makoto wouldn't drop the cup with his trembling hand. His grip looked weak.

“I really need this, after all.” Makoto wrapped his palms over the cup, letting the comfortable warmth seeped in his skin. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Hmm...”

“What?”

“It's perfect. The sweetness, I mean. I like it.” Makoto cheerfully smiled, “Although I can still enjoy it if you pour the whole pack. It's a bit embarrassing to say this, but I really like sweet foods.” A slight tinge of blush colored his cheek.

_Oh._

Then Makoto would surely be pleased with the christmas cookies Haruka had bought the other day. Haruka didn't really understand why he bought it in the first place. Makoto was lingering in Haruka's mind the entire time when he took that specific box with silky green ribbon and purchased it. Haruka wasn't even sure if they were friends yet. Then again, there was nothing wrong about giving someone a box of cookies he'd purchased from a shop as a friendly gesture in Christmas time.

Wasn't it?

“Nanase-kun, I really appreciate all you've done for me and you being here with me,” Makoto's scratchy voice pulled his attention, “but it's getting late.”

After blinking once as a reaction of the polite dismissal, Haruka nodded. “Okay.”

Smiling widely, Makoto nervously scratched his chin with his finger. “And thank you for accepting my offer. You really don't need to feel uncomfortable with me. If you don't want me to move in with you, you should tell me.”

“I really don't mind,” replied Haruka, quicker than he intended. After Makoto suggested about them being roommates in order to get cheaper rental price, Haruka hesitantly agreed. It wasn't because of him feeling bad at rejecting the offer—no, not at all—but Haruka surprised himself by feeling a little bit enthusiastic about the idea. He _liked_ the idea, and it confused him more than ever. He decided to follow his gut, rather than contemplating about this unexplainable feeling.

“That's great. I'll make a call to the owner as soon as possible. I'll see you tomorrow, Nanase-kun.”

“Tomorrow?” Haruka's eyes squinted in suspicion.

“At work. I'm going to work tomorrow.” Makoto smiled sheepishly.

“But you are...”

“I'll get better.”

“Tachibana, if you faint, I won't carry you around.” With that, Haruka stood up, acting nonchalant. Makoto's smile was still frozen there.

“Fine. If I don't feel good enough, I won't go to work.”

“It's up to you, really.”

“I promise.” Makoto's soft green eyes caught his gaze. The sheepish smile gradually turned to a gentle one, “Thank you for your concern.”

* * *

 

“Welcome, Nanase-kun!”

A sulky expression had replaced the usual blankness of Haruka's face the moment he entered the restaurant. Makoto grinned meaningfully at him. “I'm feeling much better—“

“I said it's up to you.” Haruka almost snapped, but still managed to control his tone flat. He closed his eyes and walked past Makoto. The brunet followed behind like a loyal, innocent puppy.

“I can't miss the opportunity to work today,” Makoto began to explain, “it's Christmas Eve.”

“And?” Haruka finally turned, flashing a disapproving glare at Makoto. Makoto didn't look so healthy, although his rather scratchy voice was definitely better than his croaks yesterday.

“Double salary.” Makoto winked at him, “I'm moving in, remember? I have contacted the owner of your apartment yesterday. We've settled a satisfying price, and all we need is my approval.”

“Approval...?”

“I'll have to see the apartment room. Nanase-kun, do you have plans today? Perhaps a romantic date with your girlfriend?” He didn't know why, but Makoto looked nervous when he mentioned about girlfriend. “Or a Christmas party with your friends?”

Haruka shook his head. “I have none of that.”

“Then,” Makoto's cheeks were glowing with pink blushes—probably because of his sickness, “may I come to your apartment tonight?”

“Oh.” This was quite unexpected, but Haruka really didn't mind. Usually, he spent Christmas Eve alone in his bathroom, doing absolutely nothing but bathing.

“And—if you don't mind, I won't go straight to your apartment. You see, it's Christmas Eve. I would like to take a stroll along the streets and see the huge Christmas tree. Would you like to join, Nanase-kun? You shouldn't be alone in this joyous night. Perhaps treating ourselves with warm snacks sounds good to you?” Makoto's incessant talk gave Haruka almost no space to reply. “I also want to try skiing, actually. Do you want to ice-skate sometime later, too? There are so many things to do this winter holiday but—“

 _“Tachibana!”_ The manager's voice boomed, sending the brunet to jump slightly in shock. _“Quit talking and get to work!”_

“Whoa—sorry!” For some reason, his scratchy throat managed to produce a high whimper. “Talk to you later!” With that, Makoto scurried off, carrying a set of menu with him.

Haruka let out a deep sigh. Soon, a small smile followed after.

* * *

 

On Christmas Eve, the entire staffs were still busily serving a high tide of customers even when the clock had passed the usual dinner time. It was now nine o'clock in the evening, and Makoto had messed up. Twice.

The first time, he tripped onto the wet floor while carrying Haruka's cheesecake slices. He fell backward and hit the floor with a loud thud. The cakes failed to save themselves and ended up smudging the floor. One of the customers, who ordered the cake, promptly left her seat and helped Makoto up. She was a middle-aged woman with a nice smile and sweet demeanor. “Oh, poor baby,” the woman had said and kindly offered a hand to Makoto. A scarlet shade of red painted itself all over Makoto's face as he took the woman's hand in embarrassment.

“T-thank you, ma'am. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me,” Makoto bowed low to the woman. “I will get another one.”

“Take your time, dear.” The woman smiled warmly and went back to her seat.

The second time, Makoto sneezed loudly in front of the customer's foods. He failed to cover his mouth with his hands full of a tray and a plate he was placing on the table. Feeling a bit disgusted, the customer immediately requested another one. Makoto could feel uncomfortable glares he received from some of the chefs when he admitted he'd messed their food twice.

Makoto had thought Haruka would snort or glare at him with eyes that spoke 'I've told you', but he didn't find any sign of that irritation. When Haruka placed the requested food onto the counter, his beautiful ocean blue eyes examined Makoto's body. “Are you injured?”

Makoto automatically smiled, feeling better at Haruka's concern. “I'm fine. The woman is nice. She helped me.”

“Most customers won't do that.”

“I know. Thank you, Nanase-kun.”

After Makoto delivered the foods to the customers' table and apologized full-heartedly, the manager requested Makoto to come immediately to the staff's room. The frustrated manager, who seemed to be in a bad mood in this rough and stressful night, scolded him with venomous tongue that Makoto's eyes stung with tears that were threatened to break out.

It seemed like the manager finally softened when he saw the look of a kicked puppy on Makoto's face. He asked about his young staff's health and sighed when Makoto weakly admitted that he wasn't well.

“Tachibana, if you don't feel well, you should take a day off.” The manager scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won't appreciate my staff to be clumsy for whatever reason. If you think you can't handle your work, then don't come at all. Is that understood?”

Makoto's head was hanging low as he nervously intertwined his fingers in front of him. “Yessir...” the reply was weak, “I'm sorry.”

“You will still get your double salary for the hours you've spent working here, but tonight, I don't want to see you continue.”

Makoto nodded in relief. At least he wasn't fired.

“You're dismissed.”

* * *

 

Despite Makoto being restricted to continue working, he still waited for Haruka in the kitchen. It seemed like he had taken Haruka's lack of reply as a 'yes' to his offer to spend the Christmas Eve together.

One of the chefs offered a chair for Makoto to sit onto, which was gratefully accepted by the brunet. When the clock struck ten, Haruka ended his shift and walked toward Makoto. He noticed that the brunet had almost fallen asleep, fighting his best to clutch his consciousness from drifting away.

“Tachibana.”

At the soft call of his name, Makoto slowly looked up, fingers rubbing his sleepy green eyes. “Mmm... are you done, Nanase-kun?”

Haruka nodded briefly. “Come on.”

The other yawned, closing his eyes again as he gave in to his sleepiness.

“Tachibana Makoto, you said you want to stroll along the streets.”

“M'kay...”

“And see the huge Christmas tree.”

“Hmm...”

“And treat yourself with warm and sweet snacks.”

Those charming green eyes happily exposed themselves under the thick eyelashes. “I want chocolate.” Makoto finally said, lips curled up to a cute smile.

Writing down a mental note about chocolate sweet goodies, Haruka smiled back.

* * *

 

“It's so crowded tonight.” Makoto actively moved his head around, eyes hungrily devoured as many sceneries he could take possible. “And those lights—they're pretty.” His eyes finally rested to admire the sparkling, colorful christmas lights hanging over the streets.

Haruka strolled beside him, patiently listening to Makoto's endless chattering of 'look at this' and 'look at that'. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had a chatty friend who was capable to warm up the atmosphere and made him so comfortable. Probably Nagisa, but that was back in Iwatobi. Besides, Nagisa never made him feel this special kind of comfort before.

“Nanase-kun.” Makoto tugged on Haruka's coat, “I see takoyaki. Do you want some?” After receiving a nod from Haruka, a childish grin broke out from his smile. Makoto pulled Haruka a bit too enthusiastically toward the takoyaki stand. There were a lot of people (mostly romantic couples) buying and crowding over the hot snack stand, but Makoto waited with the patience of Hachiko.

Haruka was tempted to pull Makoto away and suggest eating another snack where other people weren't crazily swarming the seller. It didn't take long for the taller man to finally notice Haruka's reluctance to wait. With a gentle smile, he started to leave the stand. “Let's get baked sweet potato instead. Nothing's better than that. Don't you think so?”

“Fine.” The blue-eyed man gratefully followed.

“Oh, don't you also want a pork bun?”

“I thought you want something sweet.”

The other's finger moved up to scratch his slightly flushed cheek. “Oh, I... I just eat a lot.”

“It's okay. You're a big guy.” Tightening his blue scarf around his neck, Haruka positioned himself beside Makoto. He wouldn't mind sticking around with Makoto to eat different kinds of foods. Makoto was still sick, so all those foods would hopefully help him back to health. He found his own self gulping at the thought of a baked sweet potato to warm his tummy.

They arrived at the baked sweet potato stand. Makoto bought two sweet potatoes and handed one to Haruka. The moment Haruka was about to take up his wallet, Makoto prevented him by holding his wrist. “No, no need to. It's my treat.”

The dark-haired man decided to give in and enjoy the little treat. He watched the mouth-watering snack in between his palms, puffing steam that was made dense by the low temperature surrounding them. He took a small bite and was instantly hungry for more.

“Baked sweet potato is the best basic thing ever.” Makoto commented, munching his potato with great appetite despite his sickness. “Nanase-kun.” He turned to Haruka, who was raising his brow as a response. “Don't you think a warm snack like this works like a hand-knitted scarf?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, while a snack warms the tummy and a hand-knitted scarf warms the neck, both also warm the heart.” Makoto's green eyes glimmered gorgeously under the colorful lights. They shone in the brilliance of true gems. Haruka felt his hot-pumped blood rushed to his neck and cheeks.

“Ah...” Haruka managed a small nod.

Makoto made an abrupt stop on his track. Haruka turned to Makoto, blinking in confusion. The brunet's eyes glowed even more when they were fixed against the dark sky. Before Haruka could follow his gaze, a soft and cold tiny fluff landed on his skin. The soft familiar touch attracted his ocean-blue eyes to shift toward the sky.

It wasn't just the snow falling in graceful cadence from the sky that captivated his attention, but the brilliant sky full of stars draping over them. As the brief snow dissipated, they were glowing with pure dazzling white light like pieces of diamonds, scattered all over the dark blanket covering the entire city. Haruka was transfixed in his place, eyes couldn't leave the beautiful Christmas gift presented by the sky.

When Haruka was finally able to lower his head down, he spotted another beautiful sight of Makoto's gentle smile and the soft tinges on his eyes as he admired the sky. Haruka's palms were sweaty, ears listening to the drumming of his own heartbeats, his mouth went dry.

It could be because of the hot sweet potato in his palms. It could be because of fatigue and of the cold that froze the skin of his lips. Those might be the actual causes.

But maybe, just maybe, there was something else that triggered his body to act this way.

Maybe it was a realization that he was starting to build up a tiny and fragile crush over Tachibana Makoto.

“Nanase-kun,” Makoto finally looked down, finding Haruka's eyes and holding his gaze captive, “Let's go find the Christmas tree. I want to see the snow falling on cedar.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny references:
> 
> Hachiko: an Akita dog ( _akita inu_ ) who waited for nearly ten years at the station for his master (who had died because of _cerebral hemorrhage_ ) to come home.
> 
>  _Snow Falling on Cedars_ : an award-winning novel written by David Guterson, published in 1994.
> 
> Source from Wikipedia.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop by and squeal for MakoHaru (and SouMako) with me at [tumblr](http://gariell.tumblr.com/).


End file.
